


There She Is

by osaycanyousolo



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:10:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osaycanyousolo/pseuds/osaycanyousolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I love her. She doesn't love me. She'll never love me. But I love her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What if we have it wrong? What is it's not like we think? 
> 
> I know. I'm sorry.

            There she is, waiting by the bus with one of her thousand watt smiles. I know she isn’t waiting for me, but a part of me wants her to be. So badly. So very, very badly. And I hate that part. That part that decides to show up in the middle of the night when I’m lying next to someone else. Someone who isn’t her. I refuse to give into that part. That part that has grown and festered in its sadness in the last four years.

            Her smile falters a little when she sees me. We make eye contact and I try to look at her like I look at everyone else. I know I fail. I think she knows it too. She gives me a head nod and a soft, “Hey.”

            I try a friendly smile and give a disinterested “Hey,” back. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. It’s been a while since that night I told her I loved her and she realized that this was more than she bargained for.

            It’s been a while since I let her in, past all of the silly walls and misdirection. I didn’t know what was happening. How could I? I’d never let myself be in love before. I didn’t see it coming. She didn’t see it when it happened. Or in the year after. And I told her. And she walked away.

            And I forgave her. I forgave her again and again and again. After every hookup. Drunken or otherwise. I forgave her. I still forgive her. I still love her.

            I love her.

            She doesn’t love me.

            I kissed her. I kissed her first. Sure our first kiss was a dare. But the second. The real first kiss. I kissed her. “ _Have you kissed a girl before?”_ she’d asked.

            “ _I went to college didn’t I?”_ I replied. She laughed. We kissed again. In our hotel room. That we shared in London. For the entire Olympic games. Together.

            And then it was over. Just like that. We went home. We flew back together as a team. Stateside, we flew away on different planes. Different directions. She barely said goodbye. Just a wave.

            Not that I expected more. I hadn’t told her yet. Even though it had happened. I had already fallen for her. Sometime between staying up late, talking in the dark and that stupid dare. I fell for her. I’m still falling. She doesn’t know. Maybe she does. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change a thing.

            I’m pretty sure I’ll always love her. I’m pretty sure I’ll never patch this break.

            I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. I like the pain. It reminds me that it was real. That it is real. For me.

            It’d be easier if we didn’t play together. Most of the year we don’t. But who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter then either. She’s still there with me. In my phone. In my head. In my stupid heart.

            And no one knows. Except for me. And maybe she does. But she’d never tell me. We don’t talk about this anymore.

            We don’t do this anymore. Maybe we never did this. Maybe it was just in my head. A dream. A fantasy. A wish. A hope.

            A hope. A hope that someone I loved loved me back. But that’s not how it happened. It still hasn’t happened. I won’t let it happen. I won’t let myself break. Once is enough.

            I can’t give my heart away. Because it’s hers. I never stood a chance.

            I get on the bus. I pick a seat far away. She doesn’t even look in my direction. I’m not important to her. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. It’s hopless. Ironic.

            I watch her during practice. She’s a goddess on the pitch. She can do things I could never dream of. She lights up on the field. Like she was born to it. I love watching her. I’ve always loved watching her.

            She’s like the sun. So bright she burns your eyes. She leaves me breathless.

            I can’t breathe.

            It used to be easy. High fives, hugs, shared laughs. Then I told her. Now it’s hard.

            It’s been two years. It’s not any easier. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said anything. Some people knew parts. No one knew everything. Just me. Not even her.

            She doesn’t know I still love her. Maybe she does. Maybe she knows I love her. She doesn’t know she’s the sun. I don’t know what she’d do if she did.

            We ride back to the hotel, mostly in silence. The ride is long. The bus it hot. And I’m anxious. We get new roommates today. I pray it’s not her.

            She doesn’t even look my direction when the assignments are handed out. I close my eyes and beg. When I open them, her name is next to mine. There’s a war raging inside me. That part is happy. I am not. I can’t do this anymore. But I will. I know I will.

            She doesn’t even look at me. She gets her key and heads up. I’m not ready. I chat with teammates. I check my phone. I wait. I wait until I know she’s probably gone.

            I steel myself before opening the door. The room is empty. Thank god. I put my stuff down and get out.

            We don’t sit by each other at the team meeting. We don’t sit by each other at dinner. We don’t have the same friends. We don’t have to be social. It’s a blessing and a curse. Maybe it would have made it easier. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Maybe it will never be easier.

            I’m in bed before she comes back. The light is off. She knows I’m here. She says nothing. She gets ready for bed. I think she knows I’m awake. I turn away. It’s all I can do.

            I hear her breathing. I hear her get into bed. Her bed. Not mine. Never mine. Never again.

            I hate this part. This is where it started. In the dark. In separate beds. Quiet whispers. Crumbling walls.

            I want to hear her voice in the dark. In the dark it can be London. In the dark it can be then. It can be. We can be.

            We are not. I wish we were. I know she feels it. Like a third person in the room.

            She sighs. “Goodnight Hope,” she whispers.

            It brings tears to my eyes. I blink them away. “Goodnight Kell,” I whisper. I close my eyes. I bite my lip. I try not to remember what it feels like with her next to me. I try not to think about the break in my heart.

            I try not to love her.

            But I love her. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

            I love her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I would have stayed. I wish I would have told her that I loved her. Even if it wasn’t true then. Because I’m pretty sure it’s true now.

            There she is, walking toward the bus. Her guard is up. Her guard is always up. I wished she’d let it down again. Just for a minute. Just for me. So we could talk about it.

            I smile at her. She flinches. Not much, but just enough that I see. No one else would notice. But I see. It’s a quick squint or a tiny jaw clench. I hate it. Because it’s my fault. The flinch is away from me.

            She comes closer. She passes me. I nod at her invitingly and say, “Hey.”  

            She tries to smile back. It doesn’t reach her eyes. She says, “Hey,” back. Like we are teammates. And that’s it.

            She gets on the bus and moves to the back. She sits back there with her headphones on. No one goes near her. They know not to try.

            I sit near the front. I don’t want to distract her. I know how important this is. To her. To me. To us.

            Sometimes I think about what it would take to be us again.       

            I’d love it to be us again. But I think it’s too broken. I broke it. I know it. She knows it. I’d change everything. No not everything. Only the last thing.

            She told me she loved me. Two years and 7 months ago. I was different then. She was different then.           

            We were different then.

            I didn’t see it coming. I’d jokingly asked her if she liked girls. She’d given a joking response. We were just having fun. Until we weren’t.

            Until it was more. Until she said she loved me. And I walked away.

            I wish I would have stayed. I wish I would have told her that I loved her. Even if it wasn’t true then.

            Because I’m pretty sure it’s true now.

            But I’m not sure. Because that’s not who I am. I’m not a faller. I don’t fall. I float along. Just out of reach. I’m a breaker. I don’t break.

            Sometimes I look at her and it makes me want to fall. It makes me want to try. I want to try.

            But I think she hates me. I wish she didn’t. But I understand if she does.

            If I were her, I probably would. But I’m me. So I broke her heart.

            I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know. Didn’t understand. Didn’t feel that way. I wish I did.

            I didn’t see it. I was just trying to get her to open up. Let down some walls. Let someone in. I didn’t know it would end like this. I didn’t know it would end in love.

            I don’t know what it means when she looks at me. Sometimes it’s hate and sometimes it’s love and sometimes it’s both. Sometimes it’s despair. That one’s the worst.

            I think she may still love me. I hope she still loves me. Even though that’s selfish.

            I wish she didn’t hate me. Because that’s the one thing I know for sure. She forgave me. And she hates herself for it. And she hates me for it too.

            At least I think she does. Because her walls are all back up. They’re taller. And fortified. And it’s to keep me out.

            She doesn’t know how I feel. I don’t always know how I feel. But she’s like the moon. Mysterious. Imperfect. Captivating.

            I catch myself watching her. At practice. During games. On the bus. In meetings. She’s alluring. She draws me in. I don’t want to get away.

            But she won’t look at me. I know it’s my fault. I wish it wasn’t.

            The truth is, I loved us. She kissed me first. She let her guard down. She made me feel interesting. She made me feel necessary. She made me a champion.

            And I thought it was a game.

            I was wrong.

            And I lost.

            We get off the bus. We’re getting new roommates. Every time I pray for her name next to mine. Just so we have to talk. Maybe we can finally talk.

            She follows me inside the lobby. She moves far away. I keep hoping. And it happens. We’re together.

            I grab my keycard and practically run to our room. I hope she follows.

            But she doesn’t. I wait for her. Until I can’t wait anymore. Maybe later. There’s still time.

            She’s almost late to the team meeting. She sits in the back. She sits far away at dinner. She disappears afterward. I don’t know where to.

            I give up again. For just a little while. Chasing her is hard.

            It’s worth it. I know it’s worth it.

            I’m not ready to give up. Because maybe I love her. Maybe it’s not enough right now. Maybe someday it will be. I hope it will be. I hope a lot. Ironically.

            She’s asleep when I come in. At least I think she is. It’s tense already. I can feel it. The past is like another person in the room. It’s judgmental. I wish it wasn’t there.

            I get ready for bed. She rolls over. Away from me. I know she’s awake. There’s a pressure in my chest. I want to fix this. I want it to be past us. I want an us. I want to be us again.

            I lay down in the dark. Just like before. Just like when it was different. When we could talk. When we could laugh. Before it fell apart. Before she fell.

            When she was falling.

            I loved us then. When she was falling. Maybe I was too. I just didn’t know it. Because it feels like it now.

            The ache in my chest gets tighter. I want to fix this. I need to fix this. Because I think I love her.

            If love is happiness and heartbreak, then I love her. I wish I was sure. Because she was sure. And I was me.

            I close my eyes and pray that this can change. When I open them, it’s still dark. We’re still broken.

            I roll toward her. I wish away the separation. I sigh and whisper, “Goodnight Hope.”

            I wait forever. I hear her sniff. Her voice waivers slightly as she whispers back, “Goodnight Kell.”

            My heart breaks. I did this. I need to fix this.

            Because I love her. Now I’m sure.

            I make up my mind. I push the covers back and pad silently to her bed. I wordlessly lift the covers and slide in next to her. I see her shoulders freeze and she holds her breath.

            I curl around her. I breathe her in. My heart soars. But only for a second. Because she’s crying. I can feel the hitch in her breath. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hope it’s a start.

            It feels like eternity. Then she turns in my arms. She pulls toward my body. She looks in my eyes.

            I’m lost.

            I see the break. It’s in her eyes. In her tears. In the way she looks at me.

            I close my eyes. To get this right. I kiss her forehead. It means everything to me. I want it to mean everything to her.

            I open my eyes. I have to tell her. I can feel the tears. This time they’re mine.

            She looks at me differently. There’s something more. It’s not just the break. Or the despair. She waits for me.

            I search her eyes. I see her heart. I smile and whisper, “I love you.”

            She smiles at me. Her whole face lights up. I realize what’s different.

            It’s hope.


End file.
